There was a letter in their post-box from Edally Academy, the seal indicating that it was directly from Head of School Wiltemika. Only Wiltemika could manage wax that swirled in so many colors at once.

Dairnikkindo opened the letter slowly and with some concern. It hadn’t been all that long; what had Tairiekie been up to? This didn’t have the look of a seasonal report card or some form letter, printed out by the dozen.

“Biemnyon!” She called into the workshop, raising her voice because her husband did not tend to listen when he was deep in a project. “Biem, it’s a letter from the school.”

“She can’t have gotten in trouble already!” There was a thunk and Biemnyon emerged, rubbing his head ruefully. He wore his braids piled on his head as extra protection; they were disheveled once again. He’d likely hit his head when he stood up, yet again.

“Biem, this is your daughter, who climbed a mountain in the middle of the night because someone told her she couldn’t.”

“Well, it was a very bright night, at least.” Biem could not keep the pride from his voice, even if both of them had been worried sick. “It was quite the achievement!”

“Yes… yes it was.” Dair worried about her daughter, but that did not stop her from being as proud as her husband was. “Well, let’s see what she’s done this time.”

The two of them read the letter together, both of them inserting their share of outbursts:

“Well, they don’t have proof…”

“It could have been someone else.”

“How did she even get it up there?”

“Oh, look, a drawing of it. Oh my.”

Their daughter, it seemed, had managed(possibly, there was neither proof nor admission) to put a goat on the top of the Philosophy building.

The artist in question had captured the moment of the goat’s fountaining, directly onto the head of of someone who, from the face, had to be Instructor Pelnyen.

“Oh dear.” Dair frowned at the picture. “Him, hrrrm. Do you think we should have warned her?”

“Tairiekie? No, you know our daughter. Remember the mountain? If you warn her about something, she’s only going to do it.”

“Biemnyon.” Dair looked at her husband in affectionate exasperation. “She built a goat and hauled it to the top of the Philosophy Tower.”

“I know.” Her husband was grinning now. With the rakish, offset pile of his braids, he looked like a sky-pirate. “Imagine what she’d have done if we warned her!”